


Geiger counter Romance (Rewrite)

by CoffeeMaus



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Gay, Happy Ending, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Praise Kink, Romance, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, queer, sort of canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24697336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeMaus/pseuds/CoffeeMaus
Summary: When Reagan makes his way through the commonwealth to Goodneighbor he expected a place he could relax. What he didn't expect was Macready and Hancock, or to find himself healing old wounds in the process of falling for both of them.A night of dancing and relaxation in the midst of the horrors of the commonwealth leads to some of the best moments of all three of their lives, but how exactly does the story go again?
Relationships: John Hancock/Male Sole Survivor, John Hancock/Robert Joseph MacCready, John Hancock/Robert Joseph MacCready/Male Sole Survivor, John Hancock/Robert Joseph MacCready/Sole Survivor, John Hancock/Sole Survivor (Fallout), Robert Joseph MacCready/Male Sole Survivor, Robert Joseph MacCready/Sole Survivor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Geiger counter Romance (Rewrite)

Reagan brushed the dusting of mud and dirt from his face—or tried to—effectively smearing it further across the bridge of his nose before he set his rifle against his shoulder and looked through the scope. Dark brown curls shielded his head like a halo against the light of the sun while he took a long moment to scour the area. From his perch on the roof of the dilapidated skyscraper it didn't take much searching to find what he needed—Goodneighbor. Half a mile to the West, it glowed bright with neon signs just as vivid as Reagan remembered them to be pre-war. He puffed a relieved sigh between chapped lips and slung the sniper rifle back over his shoulder. The last hour of daylight shone over the buildings in his field of vision and he squinted to drink it in. A lot had changed while Reagan had been on ice, everything was in varying states of disrepair, the air itself never felt clean in his lungs. However the sun remained unchanged; something he was incredibly thankful for. His mind wandered to the smell of oil paints and stained fingertips from when he used to spend hours on his front lawn to capture the colors of the clouds at sunset.

A gunshot broke Reagan from his thoughts and prompted him downward. The emergency escape was still intact, but he had to dodge jagged and rusty metal all the way down. Weaving between buildings and cars only took half the trip towards Goodneighbor before the road revealed a straight shot to the town. Some eight or so raiders were stationed in front of the same neon sign he'd been so fascinated with only minutes ago, they seemed to be in a gunfight with a decidedly smaller group of three settlers. The settlers themselves were sheltering behind a very broken car, not even bothering to fight back. Irritation and indignation rose in his gut and prompted him to take down half the raiders in as many shots before they had even pinpointed his location. With them out of the way, Reagan lurched forward clutching his 10mm as he rushed head on into the fray. The settlers were fighting back now, distracting the raiders just enough for him to get close. Badly aimed bullets whizzed his way once or twice, but before they could hit him Reagan was on top of them.

~

Eight dead raiders and three introductions later Reagan was taking stock of his bullets and eyeing up the door separating him from the inner walls of Goodneighbor. Somehow it looked better than he had expected—although he hadn't had any specific expectations before. A smile twitched at the corner of his lips and his eyes brightened with something akin to hope. More people, more noise, more to keep him thoughts from spiraling away from him.

A few days ago, he'd salvaged a trench coat from the rubble of one of his neighbors' homes to shield him from the worst of the weather and dust. Now he shrugged it off and hung it in the crook of his elbow when he took a step forward. The vest and athletic shirt would surely be enough once he stepped foot inside, especially if the hotel he'd heard rumor of still had rooms available. He shoved a shoulder into the heavy metal door and stepped through into the ramshackle town.

A man stood just inside, flashing Reagan a sickeningly fake grin when he spotted him. "Ay, fella." Reagan felt the man's eyes drag him up and down, sizing him up, and he struggled not to shudder, "There's a tax for visiting our fair town o' Goodneighbor." He was a sleaze bag. Although he might have kept the guise up if he'd put in even a minimal amount of effort, the man obviously didn't even have a box to keep the caps from this 'visitor tax.' Reagan shifted his weight to one hip before feigning an initial once over. He smelled of piss and grime, and he looked like a man that wasn't afraid to get rough for the caps he wanted. Reagan knew his type well by now.

"Sounds like a load of bull to me, brother. How about you let me by before I introduce you to a friend of mine?" He shifted slightly to show off the arsenal strapped to his back and leg. Although he had no real intention to kill this man, he wasn't afraid to throw a few punches. Besides, it couldn't hurt to have his threat hold a little more weight by showing off his guns. The man's cocky grin faltered for a moment but before he could respond, a ghoul sauntered to his side.

"Well well, you bullying our new guests into squelching up caps for yourself again, Finn?" His voice rasped when he spoke, but like any other ghoul's it still had its own unique timbre underneath. His bright red coat and tri-horn hat brought all the eyes in the vicinity towards him and Reagan had a feeling he was of some importance here. If that didn't give it away, the reaction from Finn certainly would have. He didn't look particularly scared, he kept that asshole grin plastered to his face, but he shifted his posture and gaze towards the ghoul at once.

A sharp intake of air interrupted the heavy silence following the ghoul's question as the scammer raised his hands, "Ain't nothin' against you Hancock. Man's gotta make a living you know." He chuckled uncomfortably. Hancock nodded and moved to step away before grabbing him by the shoulder, unsheathing a blade and driving it into Finn's gut twice in one fluid motion. He then wiped off the switchblade and put it away before finally turning his attention to Reagan.

"Sorry you had to see that brother, but Finn's been trying to ride his way up my ass for a while. Can't have people think I'm going soft of them now." He took a long look at Reagan with his pitch black eyes—which captivated Reagan in a way he hadn't realized he could still be captivated—before they crinkled with a smile. At the very least it was a genuine smile, "I'm John Hancock. Mayor of Goodneighbor, of the people for the people." Reagan chuckled as recognition of his outfit and namesake hit him, then he reached his hand out for a shake.

"I'm Reagan. Reagan Fostland. Good to meet you Hancock." His other hand loosened it steady hold on his 10mm's holster. He felt like he may be holding eye contact a little too intensely, an affect of the strange allure Hancock had. However Hancock dropped his startled look and slapped his hand into Reagan's for a hearty handshake before he could overthink it too much. Hancock's hand was rough but warm against Reagan's, a sensation he welcomed after what felt like forever touching nothing but the cold metal of his guns. Reagan definitely let his hand linger in the ghoul's for a moment too long before pulling it away.

Hancock chuckled in a way that made Reagan feel like he might have read him too well. "Good to meet you, Reagan. What are you in my fine town for?" The question didn't carry any suspicion, and Reagan had nothing to hide so he didn't hesitate with an answer.

"Something to eat, drink, and a place to finally catch some damn sleep if you've got it." He could hear the exhaustion in his own voice then. He reached up to ruffle his hair, hoping to clear some of the cobwebs from his thoughts. Hancock just smiled and gestured down what used to be an alley, but was now a Main Street.

"Right this way. The Third Rail has the best booze around and its just down the street from the Rexford Hotel. And hey," He tipped his hat up to reveal more of his face with a smile the punched the air right out of Reagan's lungs, "You need anything else? Come find me, Reagan." He decided he liked the way his name sounded on his lips and smiled back as he stepped back towards the dingy bar.

A set of stairs led Reagan down into a basement connected to a long forgotten subway system. A Mr. Handy robot was busy serving drinks while a woman in a sparkly blue dress and a blunt bob sang something sultry into a microphone. There weren't any ghouls in Diamond City. Some kind of sick purity thing, but here in Goodneighbor the ghouls easily outnumbered the less irradiated citizens. Honestly, Reagan couldn't care less, ghouls were people even if they didn't have smooth skin and white sclera. Aside from ferals trying to rip his skin from his bones, Reagan hadn't met any ghouls worse than anybody else in the Commonwealth yet.

He decided to spend a few caps on a bottle of whiskey and something filling to eat before settling down into one of the couches. Tonight finally felt like a good night.

~

It only took a few glasses of whiskey to turn Reagan into a relaxed puddle. The couch was more plush than anything he'd had the luxury of resting on in weeks. However the atmosphere seemed just a little too tense for his liking. The music had been steadily becoming more upbeat as the night wore on, making hatching a plan very simple for Reagan. The Commonwealth brought the worst emotions out of people, but dancing could almost always help you forget your own mortality. With a quick turn, Reagan was looking into the clear blue eyes of the stranger seated next to him. Caught off guard by how handsome the man was, Reagan took a moment before he offered the man a hand. He shot Reagan a quizzical look until he mimed a little dance and gestured to the large open space. The man blushed then, but took Reagan's hand enthusiastically nonetheless.

Dancing was definitely not a bad idea. He let himself move to the music, paying no mind to anything but the music and the man he'd dragged off the couch with him. He seemed a bit more calculated in his dancing but not uncomfortable. Reagan chuckled before offering his hand out, "I'm Reagan. Thanks for helping me lighten the mood." He took a hold of Reagan's hand and pulled him closer to do some fancy spin that left Reagan's head whirling.

"Robert Macready." A smile played at the corner of his lips, "Very glad to dance with you." Other people had begun to stand and dance too, faces mirthful and most of them definitely buzzed. Reagan snatched Robert's newsboy cap off his head and placed it on the couch they had just vacated. His dirty blonde hair fell from its carefully combed place and into his eyes when he kept dancing. His jacket had been discarded before they even stood up due to the warmth of the room. Reagan admired his lithe frame as he moved next to her—now somewhat awkwardly. Reagan was thinking of something to say before he was interrupted by a familiar voice,

"Hey, are you startin' a party without me, doll?" The deep rasp startled Reagan at first, and when he turned around Hancock was smiling at him. Then when they made eye contact he clutched a hand over his heart in feigned hurt. "No, not Mac too! I thought we were friends!" Macready laughed jovially at his act. Reagan turned and quirked a brow up in a silent question, when Macready smiled wider he took it as an agreement. Relaxed by the alcohol and tired of being on edge, Reagan gave in to his impulses. In one quick movement he put a hand on the small of Hancock's back, entwined their fingers and dipped him as low as he could without dropping him to the floor.

"Go ahead and join us, Mayor!" He soaked up the surprised smile from the man below him, sticking his tongue out at him mockingly. However Hancock easily turned the tables—pressing himself close to Reagan and letting out a noise akin to a growl low in his throat. Reagan felt the blush rise to his cheeks and froze, only breaking out of the spell when Maccready impatiently flicked the mayor on the cheek to break the two of the out of it.

"You can't come in and stop the party, John, keep dancing." He winked, pulling both of them to their full height next to him. Reagan couldn't help but notice that he practically towered over the both of them at almost six feet tall, but at that point the music had transitioned to something slower and Reagan was thrown into memories of going dancing with friends. He took a slow breath to ease the tension out of his shoulders, the music rejuvenating him. At that moment it almost felt like nothing had changed. It felt serene, perfect, and opening his eyes to see Maccready dancing with Hancock felt like the most natural thing in the world then. The place and the people were different from before the war, but Reagan was happy. Even excited, and god this moment made him feel like he was alive again. The thrumming of his heart felt like it was in tune to the music as he joined in with both men and let himself stay in the moment. Just this once.

**Author's Note:**

> So a lot has happened and obviously I've changed the main characters gender in this rewrite. Without going into it, I've stopped denying some things about my identity and its easier for me to write the character this way.
> 
> Reagan is trans, I love him and I hope y'all don't stop liking him for it, lol.


End file.
